


Irreverence

by Billy the Brat (WithKeyLymes)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ankle Cuffs, Choking, Crying, First Time, Gloves, Hair-pulling, Incest, Loss of Innocence, M/M, Paddling, Powerlessness, Sexual Abuse, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithKeyLymes/pseuds/Billy%20the%20Brat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay was no stranger to Roose Bolton, or so he believed.  But he had never truly met the man.</p><p>Modern AU. A high-school aged Ramsay is taken in by his father after a long, fierce legal battle, only to find that the man is not as respectable as he seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irreverence

**Author's Note:**

> First upload! Inspired in part by the fact that Ramsay wasn't punished properly as a child, and therefore would react uncharacteristically in the face of intense physical abuse and powerlessness. Also because I finally had a concept for a spanking/paddling fic, so I rode it to the moon.
> 
> Thanks to (my) Big Brother for being my beta.

Ramsay was no stranger to Roose Bolton, or so he believed.

After all, he'd heard his putrid mother's stories, and he'd seen the man week after week in the gruelling court battle he'd been attending for his entire high school life. His mother -pretty as she was promiscuous- wooed the sympathy of both judge and juror in a fierce contest against the best lawyers his father's fortune could buy. Not one to focus on the way his parents were fighting to be rid of him, Ramsay relished the concept of being taken in by his legendary sire, a man whose voice could send a lesser man begging for sanctuary.

It was no wonder, then, that he was a lap dog at his father's heels when the man picked him up from his mother's dreary apartment, having 'won' the custody battle when Mommy Dearest was deemed an unfit parent. The sixteen-year-old was oblivious to his father's foul mood, despite the way the fog surrounding him drove his servants to seek safer places to clean. As they entered his study, a slender brown-skinned girl gasped and, as she spun, upended the bucket she'd been mopping with. _That_ chill was one he felt, deferring to wait and witness how his father would deal the girl as a wet-lipped smile split his pale face.

Yet, Roose simply watched the girl clean. Didn't sit, didn't speak, didn't look away for a moment - simply stood over her and watched as she cleared the rest of the mess.

_That isn't_ it, _is it?_ Ramsay queried wryly to himself, settling into a deep red chair with ornate handles, which he stroked idly with his fingertips. She was uncomfortable, yes, but this wasn't the sort of fear he expected from the infamous Roose Bolton. He'd heard such gut-wrenching stories of blackmail and rape and violence and murder, yet here he was, doing nothing more than intimidating this woman who made such a complete ass of herself the moment his son walked in the door! "Father, I was hoping --"

"Quiet, Ramsay. We will be speaking shortly."

A scowl overtook Ramsay's face, and he crossed his legs to wait out the minutes with gross impatience. Roose turned as the woman finished cleaning her mess, her form quivering as she stood, tears in her deep brown eyes.

"I apologize that she kept us waiting. She is new, but rest assured, that won't be happening again." At the last statement, the maid let out a choked little sob, putting a hand over her mouth. Ramsay's attention was roused for a moment, but fell on Roose when he took Ramsay by the back of his shirt and pulled. Instinctively, the young man scrambled to his feet and stepped back, calves hitting the chair he'd been sitting in and leaving far too little space between him and his father. "From now on, you will ask if you want leave to sit in my presence."

Ramsay scoffed aloud, side-stepping this arrogant man and realizing with a start that the maid must have been entrusted with a key, for she had locked the door behind her. Something fluttered in his stomach; this wasn't right, but he couldn't quite pin down what 'this' even was. "I'm not allowed to _sit_ without your _permission_? What the hell--"

_CRACK._

"You are _my_ son. You will not sully our proud name with your foul mouth." Ramsay couldn't react, head snapped to one side. There was fear building in his stomach, but it was rage that built behind his eyes, multiplying with the taste of the blood in his mouth. Turning to face his assaulter once more, he found Roose applying a thin layer of disinfectant to his transluscent skin, a pair of gloves tucked under one arm. Twisting up his face, the son ran his tongue along his top teeth before spitting a mouthful of blood on the carpet. "What the _fuck_ , old man?"

Roose didn't respond for a moment. He finished pulling on his gloves before setting his icy gaze on his son, making his blood run cold in an instant. Despite the blood, his mouth went dry, and he opened it once more, pulling more venom from the depths of his mind, raging with fear. "Don't you dare tou--"

His voice turned into a yelp when Roose took hold of his long hair, fingers curled into the roots as he dragged him, stumbling, across the floor and threw him at a large, dark wooden desk. The teenager stopped himself with his hands, sending a few papers fluttering meekly to the floor, but didn't get a chance to fully face his assailant again. The older Bolton had his wrist in a vice as soon as he'd hit the desk, twisting it against his back and pressing him roughly into the table, knees pinning his legs expertly. Ramsay was reeling, body finally giving into the ripples of fear that made his limbs tremble.

"You are a disgusting, obstinate bastard. I have never been _pleased_ that I made the mistake of raping you into your mother, but you and she have made the last two years of my life a nightmare -- a nightmare unending, as now I am stuck with _you_." The man's voice was incredibly low, and as he spoke he moved, reaching beneath Ramsay's view and making something _click_ before the younger male felt leather encircling his ankle. With a snarl, he yanked himself away, thrashing against the old man's grip like a feral dog; but one leg was already cuffed, and Roose Bolton had no problem slamming the boy's head firmly against the desk and quickly fastening his other ankle into its symmetrical restraint.

Ramsay raised his head, feeling dazed as he blinked slowly, pulling the world back into focus. His head hurt, but without any wetness, he didn't imagine it was enough to leave more than a lump, and the corners of his mouth quivered.

"Over the course of the next few months, you will learn to respect and obey me. You'll come to discover that I have the means to get what I want, and that it's much easier to simply do as I say. Today, you're going to practice saying 'Yes, father'. When I ask your opinion, you may give your honest answer, but otherwise it is the only thing I want to hear when I order you to do something. Do you understand, Ramsay?"

For a moment, he released his hold on Ramsay, letting the boy stand for a moment, breathing shakily before he pushed him back down. Against his will, the boy found himself letting out a choked sob, wincing at his own cowardice.

"I'll give you one more chance, Ramsay. Do you understand?"

"Yes," came the response, through gritted teeth.

_THWACK._

The paddle came down on his clothed ass and Ramsay cried out, cutting himself off as best he could. Within his shoes, his toes curled. His father's gloved hand stroked across the damaged flesh, and he leaned down to speak in his son's ear. "It's 'Yes, father'.

"Now, unfasten your pants, and drop everything to your knees."

Ramsay balked, but he wasn't stupid. He was too afraid to be defiant, and he found himself too trapped to escape; already his legs ached in their spread position. Feeling ill, he moved his freed hands to the front of his jeans and responded quietly: "Yes, father."

_THWACK!_ it came down again, making Ramsay cry out in shock.

"Why?! I told you what you wanted!" the dark-haired teen snarled, earning him another hard smack.

"I will correct you _after_ each spanking, if you can listen for long enough to hear it. It'll be three the next time you question why I've hit you."

Ramsay winced at his father's words, heart hammering as he unzipped his pants, tugging them from around his waist to settle around his knees; they wouldn't drop much further either way, given how he was positioned. If Roose noticed his half-formed erection, he didn't comment. "Yes, father..."

"Now, place a hand on either hip, and spread yourself."

Ramsay froze at that, the reality of the moment crashing upon him in a rush, making his face feel hot and his eyes feel wet, if only for a moment. The dizziness was cleared when his father brought the paddle down on his bare skin, the sting making Ramsay gasp. "Y-yes. Father." Unable to think, no longer knowing what to do, how to fight this situation, the high school student dropped onto his stomach on the desk and stretched his arms behind him. Bile rose in his throat as he stretched his cheeks open, exposing that unsavory part of himself to... his _father_.

Had he truly idolized this man, only this morning?

Roose was still wearing his gloves. It was only now that Ramsay realized it must have been the reason he put them on -- he'd known since then what he was going to do to his son. Or maybe even earlier? They'd gone straight into his study from the car, and the maid had locked the door behind her... Ramsay's heart sank. His father had planned this, and who knows how long ago?

"Have you ever participated in any homosexual acts, Ramsay?"

Flashes of Reek bloomed in his mind, but the boy shook his head rapidly, remedying his mistake in an instant: "No, father." Even if it was a lie, he had never let Reek touch _him_.

"Good boy, Ramsay." With only the slightest lubrication, Roose shoved a finger into his son, relishing the way he screamed. There was no mercy or compassion in the way he abused the sixteen-year-old, setting his hand at a quickening pace. As soon as Ramsay's screams dropped to whimpers, he brushed a second digit against the edge of his puckered anus before thrusting it in to join the first. This time, the scream ended in another choked sob, the boy's hands beginning to lose strength.

"Don't you dare drop your hands, Ramsay." A whimper, followed by the threat of more tears. He cried out in earnest when the paddle came down on his ass again. "Say it."

"Yes, f-father... I won't." His cheeks were wet, and he screamed when his father added a third finger, mercilessly stretching his virgin hole as he pistoned three fingers in-and-out of him, adding a forth far too soon. Ramsay bit his lip, chest quaking with internalized sobs and, finally, he let out another sharp cry when Roose's fingers popped free all at once.

"Please..." his voice sounded foreign; had he ever sounded so desperate, so pathetic? "Father, I promise... I'll--"

_SMACK. SMACK. SMACK._

He was quiet at the end of the paddling, tears streaming freely down his face. The desk felt cool against his forehead, and Ramsay contented himself to focus on the droplets his tears formed as they fell on the dark, finished wood, warping the grain.

"You will obey me without question, Ramsay, and you will learn to be a respectful member of society. Is that understood?"

"Yes, father," he murmured.

"Good boy. Now, place your hands behind your head."

"Yes, father," Ramsay repeated again, moving his arms and trying not to picture what was in store for him. The skin on his backside stung, and despite his resistance, the anal stimulation had brought him to full erection, his length pressed between his own stomach and the desk beneath him. Shame was all but devouring him from the inside.

When he felt the heat against him, he gasped. The sensation was unmistakable, but the moment he reacted was the moment that he realized he was pinned once more, with his father's hand holding both of his against his neck, pressing his head into the cold wood. Even so, Ramsay fought, struggled against his bonds and his captor, and inevitably screamed when the head of his father's cock stretched him wide open, and his body swallowed the man up greedily.

Ramsay's screaming had no sound, or perhaps he'd grown deaf to it, as Roose worked his cock in to the hilt in one slow thrust, surely tearing anything his fingers hadn't already taken care of. The teenager shook against his captor, fingers tensing in his own hair as his teeth finally broke through the skin of his lower lip.

"Much better, Ramsay. You're learning already." The sound of Roose Bolton's whispered words raked Ramsay's ears, and he bit down another sob as Roose pulled out of him and slammed back in. It was staccato at first, the way his father fucked him. Quickly, it gained a practiced rhythm, the man behind him eerily silent as he tore away the last shred of his son's innocence. In the silence, Ramsay couldn't find an escape from the sounds that echoed throughout the room as his father's balls slapped against him, the wetness of lube and precum making it sound like his father was fucking a woman instead of another man. His eyes stung, and screaming had raked his throat raw.

Ramsay let out a cry as Roose's speed quickened, his thrusts growing rougher and forcing the boy's cock up against his desk. Within a few moments, Ramsay was moaning against his will, tears falling freely from his bloodshot grey eyes. Behind his head, his father's grip shifted, taking hold of his hair and heaving him up, making Ramsay scream once again, hating the way it felt to be pressed up against this man's chest.

"When I take you Ramsay, I will finish in you as well. In fact, if I ever need somewhere to finish, I expect you to be prepared; the same goes for any associates I offer you to. Do not spill a drop." Ramsay couldn't respond, couldn't think, and for that he felt his father's hand snake around his throat and squeeze threateningly, skin cold and grip like iron.

"Yes, father," he rasped, moaning as Roose's speed increased once more, holding Ramsay against his chest by the throat as he ground his body against the desk. The teenager was flushed, cock throbbing each time it was thrust against the cool wood, and he fought to look away from his attacker. Behind him, each thrust was a reminder of what he was to his father now, degradation rippling in a sickening wave through his form, and as he was pressed forward once more, he felt a familiar tension growing in his groin. Ramsay whimpered and fought, tears growing in his eyes as his balls tightened, pulled against him, and finally released in a rush of endorphins. He cried openly as his cock released several thick, ropes of seed across the dark-stained wood, the internal muscles tightening and quaking painfully around the invader within him.

A final whimper emerged at the sensation that followed: the flood of burning heat that accompanied his father's cock throbbing within him. No longer held by his hair, Ramsay dropped heavily back to the desk, thoughts scattered and maligned. A sudden, instant relief came as Roose pulled out and stepped away to clean himself. Ramsay closed his eyes, trying to put out of mind the sensation of his tainted hole gaping and quivering as it dripped his father's cum into his boxers.

He returned to unfasten the restraints on Ramsay's ankles, returning them to their hiding spot and placing a hand on the boy's back. The defiled bastard barely reacted to the three smacks he received on his already-reddened skin, screwing his eyes shut as his father tugged his pants up sharply after the last punishment. "I told you not to spill a drop, Ramsay. Now, clean yourself up in the bathroom down the hall. Then I expect you to unpack your things, and be at the tablet for supper by 7:30."

Ramsay zipped and buttoned his pants, sore and trembling, unable to process the way his world had so drastically changed. He looked at the desk, then at Roose Bolton behind it, grey eyes open yet unseeing. "Yes, father."


End file.
